Walking with Zoey

As noted in my last post here, during the late months of one of my daughter's pregnancy, we used to go out for daily walks to prepare her for giving birth. I enjoyed having someone to accompany on my walks around the city and it was a new experience for Rebecca (not being one to go out walking if there was a working motorbike nearby). With Rebecca away in Denpasar, I've started taking my morning walks with my new partner – Zoey, my granddaughter.

Early morning from 6:30 on is the preferred time for adults around the island to walk their infants and toddlers. Sometimes, it's a grandparent, other times a parent or older sibling, and lacking those an interested neighbor will take a small child out for a walk. Indonesia is one of those “it takes a village to raise a child” places. The older kids wander the kampung playing with friends, watching adults work on fishing boats or construction projects or do duty babysitting younger siblings. There's always adults around to guide children when they get into something dangerous (like jumping off the pier). But, for right now, I'm Zoey's transport, guide into life in the kampung and live-in English teacher.

I pop Zoey in her little front carrier, put a cap on her head to protect her from the morning sun and we're ready to go. We wander east through the kampung towards the harbor. Adults and most children already know Zoey and greet her as we pass. There's always the comments about Pak Guru (me) speaking to Zoey in English and about how much I'm spoiling her (a good thing here until kids get older). Small children shout out “What's her name?” I tell them her name is Zoey, and they repeat it over and over, “Zoey, Zoey, Zoey.” Zoey doesn't care – she hasn't figured out what her name is yet, apparently because she hasn't had the right ceremony for that sort of thing.

Zoey stares at the tall trees along the seawall fascinated by the large green leaves. We head out behind the Hindu temple and come out into the harbor area. There's a small merry-go-round and some miniature electric cars for kids to play on along with sellers of balloons and cheap Chinese-made toys. We pass the Chinese temple with it's bright red and white colors and closely manicured grass glistening in the morning sun. I say hello to my friend who's chatting inside. We come out at the bridge, pass the policemen directly morning traffic and head along the street past the still-closed building supply shops and then further on past the automobile parts shops and furniture stores. I wave hello to the lady who owns the large bicycle shop on the corner and we're back in the kampung. We wander over to my brother-in-law's house and chat until Zoey has had enough with not moving and starts to fuss. As soon as we get on the move again, she laughs. It's clear who is in control on our walks.

Back past her grandmother's shop who checks to see if Zoey is asleep. We wander west along the small street that skirts the seawall. Old friends and acquaintances say hello and come up to comment on Zoey's chubby cheeks barely holding themselves back from pinching them as everyone loves to do here. They've been warned off this by my wife who's told them that I'm overprotective so only look and don't touch. We stop at the small bridge for a few minutes and watch the men fishing and then head over the Hindu cemetery to look at the goats who are out every morning scavenging through the rubbish that is washed up on the beach. The sun's climbing, I'm hot and Zoey is hungry. Time to head back home.

Back at the house, Zoey and I go up to the third floor, where I turn on the fan, make a bottle and tune in the morning baseball game on Fox Sports. I lie down besides Zoey and we relax watching the game. It's not long before we're both asleep after another morning's adventure.

Living in Singaraja Bali: Walking with Rebecca

Back in Singaraja once again after a few months in Denpasar (written about over at lifeinthetropics), Rebecca and I have been taking hour walks around the city early in the morning so that she gets some doctor-ordered exercise before she gives birth sometime later this month. I tried to get the other children to accompany us, but they are definitely not up for early morning exercise. Today we took off to wander the streets and neighborhoods to the west of Kampung Bugis. Even at 6:30, the streets are teeming with traffic and the small, local markets packed with throngs of ibus (ibu is a generic term of address for adult women similar to Mrs. or Ms.; it also means mother ) doing their shopping for the day's cooking.

Unlike years past, many of the neighborhoods now have narrow sidewalks, although using them can be a challenge as they are often used as parking spaces for motorbikes, convenient spots to expand the boundaries of small shops and eateries called warungs and places of rest for the irritating presence of Bali's wandering dogs (still here despite the roundups over the last few years due to the rabies epidemic on the island). We navigate our way through these obstructions, carefully hugging the edge of street so as not to become one of Bali's many traffic fatalities. A young mother-to-be and her old father gather a few stares and some smiles along the way, as well as some surprised greetings from neighbors, family and acquaintances who are also out shopping, having some exercise, or just passing the time watching life in neighborhoods.

Out on Jalan Dewi Sartika, we pass an old acquaintance who built one of the first discos in North Bali several decades ago. I rarely see him these days and am surprised to notice his graying, thinning hair. I still have a mental image of him as he looked decades ago when we'd sit in his bar/restaurant having a few beers while talking about life in North Bali. We chat about what we're up to these days and how many grandkids we have and make some plans to get together in the near future. The chance encounters with old friends that I've had since I've been back in Singaraja reminds me of just how long I've been here in Bali and how much things have changed here over the past several decades. The north coast is in the process of changing from a quaint, sleepy, laid-back melting pot of Bali's diverse population to a bustling large city somewhat marred by the lack of central planning in its development (something common to all areas of Bali these days, as everyone from locals to Western expats to monied Javanese rush to get a piece of Bali while prices for land and houses continue on in a crazy spiral onwards and upwards).

A nephew drives by in his bemo and gives us a few honks and a wave, a brother-in-law pulls over to the side of the street to ask where we've been on our walk today, a neighbor corrals Rebecca to check her tummy and ask when she got back from Denpasar. We walk out onto the main road, Jalan A. Yani, and surprisingly the traffic here is less intense than on the little sidestreets. A few policemen are out controlling the traffic; one waves and I gesture to inquire if I can take his photo. He gives me a big smile and the thumbs-up sign.

Farther along A. Yani as we head for home, I notice a new bakery. I know that there's another one on Jalan Diponegoro. As I take a photo, I wonder what market forces have brought about the openings of all the bakeries that I came across while living in Denpasar and see now opening in Singaraja. Baked goods have long been a part of the Indonesian diet, but in the past they were generally sold in small shops along with a variety of other goods; now we have gleaming, Western-style bakeries specializing in cakes, donuts, and a variety of breads. I know now where to buy my wife's birthday cake this year.

Back home again, the cat that Rebecca and I rescued a few months ago in a field in Denpasar is racing through the house looking for our rabbit; the two have become somewhat unlikely friends. It's time to begin the chores for the day under the cloudy Singaraja sky.

Trip to Padangbai: A Little Old, a Little New: Part II

The large beer disappeared quickly, as did the two bottles of water. The lumpia were different from what I usually eat – larger, softer and in a sauce – but excellent. Refreshed, I engaged in the usual friendly banter with the two young women who were waiting on me: where are you from, where are you going, are you married, how many children do you have, is your wife from here, how long have you been in Bali? As always, this was a pleasant way to pass the time while the ngaben continued slowly moving south with traffic still backed up in front of the hotel.

I was watching a tattooed Indonesian fellow give instructions to a guy who had pulled into the driveway in a small flatbed truck. They loaded the Harley onto the truck, made sure it was secure and then sat down at the next table to have coffee. The tattooed fellow jumped up right after he had sat down and introduced himself to me as Edi, owner of the Bali Permai, the motorcycle and the Kijang. He sat down at my table, ordered me a coffee and started up a conversation. Originally from Jakarta, Edi has a Harley business in Jakarta, but he also has this hotel and a new place down the road in Amed. We passed some time discussing our marriages, kids, land prices in Bali, the hotel business, Edi's love of Harleys, his tattoos and the changing nature of Tulamben. In the middle of the conversation, Edi jumped up again – this guy has an amazing amount of energy – and ran off into the hotel, returning with a large key chain imprinted with the hotel's name and a Harley symbol, which he presented to me as a gift. He also reminded me to recommend his place to any friends of mine who might be visiting Bali. Eventually the ngaben moved off the main road, the traffic cleared up and it was time to be on the road again.

Driving through Tulamben, I briefly consider spending the night there, but I have fond memories of staying in Tulamben back in the old days when there were only a few accommodations in the village before it became a busy diving center. I decide to head on through the east coast's lunar landscape to Candidasa with the idea that I might stay there for the night rather than continue all the way to Padangbai. Once past Tulamben the road veers off from the coast and up through a series of hills that offer some of the most beautiful visions of rice paddies in Bali. Over the years, I have taken hundreds of photos in this area, and when I have visitors they always want to stop and absorb the magnificent landscape. I cruise up and over the hills, rice paddies glistening under a Balinese sun.

The traffic in Amlapura is a bit more congested than usual. Probably another ceremony. This is a town that I have always found attractive, spacious and clean. I'd like to live here for a while. Why isn't there enough time to live in all these places that I find attractive. Traveling – I find traveling somewhat less than satisfying – it's too quick, too ephemeral, if this is Tuesday it must be Belgium. The anthropologist in me wants to know what the people are like; what do they do at night, do they argue loudly or in whispers, where do they shop, what is it about this place that they love? But to live somewhere, to occupy a place, to bend time and space to squeeze inside the hearts and souls of the people. Well, not today for sure, not this life most likely, but maybe another time around.

As quickly as the traffic appears, it disappears and before I know it, I'm entering Candidasa. Clusters of well-dressed tourists roam the main street – this is definitely not Kuta. But, the vibe doesn't seem right for me to stay and despite my sunburned hands, arms and face, I decide to cruise on through the village to Padangbai because that's the real mystery for me. A place that I've passed through dozens of times, yet never explored. Thirsty again, I'm in the rhythm of the road. The bike and I have reached that place where we're joined – it's been over 200 clicks today over the rough Bali roads and I feel that I can ride another 200.

I hit the turnoff to Padangbai and get a rush; without realizing it I have the bike over 100kph – fast for a Balinese road. I pull back some and cruise into the village almost entering the ferry terminal from the memory map based on almost ten years of ferry trips. Sharply turning left onto a small road, I think that I must have missed a turnoff – this can't be Padangbai because there's nothing here. Piles of garbage on a narrow, nondescript street and some guides looking for business. But as I negotiate a sharp corner just ahead, I see the Zen Inn. I've reached the tourist section of the village.

Slowly cruising past small shops selling water, biscuits, batteries and everything that a tourist might possible want. A restaurant with a few attractive ladies in front, a dive center, another restaurant, another shop. I'm trying to reach into the recesses of an old, somewhat battered memory bank for the information from a travel article that I wrote on Padangbai a few years ago for the USA Today. Nothing is coming forward, and as I'm thinking of turning back to check out the Zen Inn, I see a young woman sitting on the street in front of a sign for Marco Inn. 

I pull over, suddenly exhausted, and ask if she works for the inn. Yes, she owns it with her foreign husband. How much is a room? I ask. Hoping that it will be under my limit of 150,000 per night. Ah, it's 100,000. No need for me to bargain. That magical number that I love. I've never been let down in rooms that go for that price. Now 150,000, I've had good and bad experiences, but 100,000 just perfect. I stumble off the bike feeling a bit bowlegged. The young lady giggles and tries to hide it. I just smile, I feel like I'm home. I don't even need to see the room to know it will work. But, of course, there are conventionalities to be followed. This is Bali after all and even a weary traveler looking for whatever it is that brought me here must follow conventions.  

Back from a Long Trip to Ubud: My Oasis in Bali

Generally my trips to Ubud only last a day or two; this time I decided to stay down there for a while for a needed change of pace. There are times when living in a small, crowded kampung just gets to be a bit much. My favorite place to stay in Ubud is a small homestay – they actually call themselves an inn – with a friendly family, decent rent, good breakfasts and a quiet peaceful garden that is ideal for just sitting, thinking and writing. No TV, no internet connection, just some books, some time and a little peace.

I've been staying there for 23 years. I've brought my eldest son, my wife and close friends with me on a few trips, but mostly I stay there alone. It's the place where I go when I need to reflect and not concern myself with what's happening outside of my inner landscape. Artja's is the closest I can get to occupying a remote world while being right in the center of the teeming tourist/expat world of central Ubud.

I drove up to Kintamani and then down to Ubud as usual. The trip has become so routine that I can get lost in my thoughts while driving through some of Bali's most spectacular countryside absorbing the almost timeless spell that this region casts upon me ; a rare treat and something that I never take lightly. The sweet smell of cloves drying along the roadside; the warmth of sunbeams piercing through the tall trees outlining the road.

Stopped by a large police contingent checking all foreigners's driving documents, I had a quick smile and bit of banter while they checked my licenses and registration. Pulling into Artja Inn, I was warmly welcomed and led to my favorite room in the far back: a simple, but comfortable bed, a small fan, an open-air shower and a small verandah. The small mirror in the bathroom a welcomed addition for morning shaving.

The family and I exchanged greetings and small talk about the weather in Ubud and Buleleng (my home region). I unpacked my gear, finishing just as the hot water arrives for use with the endless supply of coffee and tea that sit on a small table on each verandah.

This trip was unusual in that I stayed five days; a long, curious encounter with a group of local expats; wandering through areas of Ubud that I haven't visited in decades, and spending a few days engaged in delightful conversations with a couple of young tourists from France and Germany. Those people that know me well, know that I tend to shy away from contact with new people, but on this trip I met more new people than I have met in the three years that I've been back in Bali after my six year stay in Sumbawa.

Hours of tales, reminiscences, cautions, culture and history lessons. Speaking with a fellow Chicagoan we spin tales of writers, politicians, wars, riots, money come and gone, women loved and lost. New Yorkers, Californians, film-makers, antique dealers, everyone with a fascinating history, but now somehow all gathered here in Bali. It's a long way from the kampung; some needed stimulus for my own work which gets confused and contorted with too much isolation.

I dread the entrance of the two young tourists who take the room next to mine. Young, beautiful people; laughing they introduce themselves and ask for advice about where to visit on their two days in Ubud. I take the role of the old-timer and offer a few suggestions. They wander off to explore the area. The next day they arrive excited from a long day out touring and shopping. The young lady, radiantly beautiful, excitedly describes her purchase of a silk sarong. She pops inside and quickly appears to model it for her companion and me. It is indeed lovely, but as I've often found, local clothes somehow fit better on locals. But, we both offer our congratulations on her purchase of such a lovely piece of cloth. She wants to go out and try the nightlife. Her companion opts to relax in his room, but he asks a question and it begins hours of talk about the culture of the island and the country, about his interests and mine. It's a rewarding few hours of sharing – a long time since I've done that with a stranger.

In the morning, he takes his leave for Sanur thanking me for the evening's talk. I'm somewhat amazed that he hadn't found it another long, boring discourse on local culture from an old anthropologist. She stays for a while, has a coffee and a short chat and then is on her way with new companions who will share her last few days in the country.

I spend another few days exploring the lanes of Ubud; arriving back each day sweaty, thirsty and filled with wonder at how despite the hordes of foreigners that crowd the streets and lanes of Ubud, it has somehow managed to retain its charm; maybe not quite as quaint as it once was many years ago, but still somehow intoxicating when viewed in the fading light of an afternoon's sun.

A Warm Breeze from the Coast

It's been a while since my last motorcycle trip (Ramadan isn't ideal for traveling and my eldest daughter was visiting from school), so I decided it was time to hit the road and visit a friend down in Ubud to chat and pick up an antique keris that I bought many years ago. My friend kindly offered to have it cleaned for me, and now that it was done I had a great excuse to visit Ubud.

I've been dropping in to Ubud for short visits since I first arrived in Indonesia back in 1989. My trips back in the early days were mainly to look for Balinese art. I'd stay a night or two in a local homestay, get what I wanted and then head back home. What I mostly remember about Ubud back then was how early the village closed down. The streets would be dark and deserted by 10 pm. Years later, I started visiting Ubud with friends to stay a night or two, hear some music, do a little shopping and spend a lot of time in one or another of the bars or clubs. Now, I mostly visit Ubud to visit my American friend and discuss expat life, local and world politics, kids and school and anything else that pops up during the three or four hours that we spend together.

After visiting my buddy, I return to the inexpensive homestay that I've been using as my base in Ubud for the past 22 years. The homestay offers basic rooms with two beds, a fan, an outdoor bathroom with cold water, and the traditional Balinese double doors. No frills, although they do have two new rooms with hot water. What I love about the place is that the folks are friendly but not intrusive. We always have a short chat when I arrive, and then they just go back to their daily household routines. They do provide plenty of hot water along with coffee and tea, and the breakfast is quite good: a large fruit salad along with either an egg or a banana pancake. While the price has gone up over the years, the 100,000 rupiah they charge now is reasonable and fits in my traveling budget of 150,000 a night for a room.

So after returning from my visit, I have a shower and nap, and then wander around a bit. This usually includes buying a book and then having dinner at one of Ubud's many restaurants. While Ubud is one of the top destinations for visitors to Bali because of the cultural attractions (dances, music, art) and the gorgeous countryside, it has limited interest for me because I've been to the ceremonies and dances. I do enjoy watching the tourists, however. We don't get many in Kampung Bugis, so they're some akin to a birdwatcher catching sight of a rare species.

While I was driving down to Ubud from Kintamani, I passed three groups of tourists doing one of the bike rides that go down from Kintamani to Ubud, and then later several groups getting ready to do one of the rafting trips on the Ayung River. There are a number of companies that offer biking and rafting like Bali Adventure Tours and Sobek. So, there were plenty of tourists around Ubud to keep me amused.

Coming back to Kampung Bugis from Ubud, I drove up to Kintamani through a soft morning rain. I love getting out on the road early with the markets full, kids on their way to school and the smell of wood fires burning in the villages. By the time I hit Kintamani, the fog was so thick that visibility was down to 3 meters and a stiff wind was blowing up from the west. Indonesians on motorbikes tend to dress like I used to during the cold Chicago winters when I was a kid: gloves, scarves, heavy jackets. I wore a t-shirt, and I was freezing. My hands were numb from the cold and the vise-like grip that I had on the motorcycle because of the hazardous driving conditions. As I moved down the mountain, the fog cleared up and a dazzling blue sky appeared overhead. A warm breeze from the coast let me know that I was getting close to home. North Bali's brilliant coast never looked better.

Now it's time to figure out where to go on my next trip around Bali.

Singapore and Hospitals in Singapore

I’m still in Singapore and still in the hospital. The tests have all come out ok, and I’m ready to go home. I just have to wait for SOS to get me a flight out to Bali and then a flight to Sumbawa.

I’ve been restricted to the hospital for the last three days. Yesterday, I snuck out and took a quick little walk out of the hospital and down Orchard Road. I haven’t been in Singapore on a Sunday in many years. It was fascinating to watch the maids giggling and laughing in small gatherings on their day off. The street was absolutely packed. I love Singapore.

After 10 minutes, the whole trip was giving me a headache, and I decided that the last thing that I wanted to do was fall over on Orchard Road so I headed back to the hospital, had some meds for the headache and took a nap.

My eldest daughter was online with me for a while yesterday, and we had a chat about my health and the hospital. She found the hospital to be quite beautiful.

Back in Kampung Bugis II and Life in the Bali Sea

This is my third day back in Kampung Bugis. For those who aren’t aware of my little neighborhood, Kampung Bugis is located on the north coast of Bali in the city of Singaraja. The neighborhood hugs the shoreline just to the west of the large statue at the old harbor of Buleleng. As our house sits back only a few meters from the Bali Sea, the kids and I spend a lot of time in the water.

One of the things that I’ve always wanted was an underwater camera so that I could photo document the coral reefs in front of the house. Recently I was able to purchase the Olympus 1030 SW. My children will be able to show their children what the sea looked like decades before they were born. It would have been wonderful to have had these photos years ago before the coral started dying. There appears to be some regrowth going on, and I want to document that.

Here is the first of a series of photos on life in the sea in Kampung Bugis. The first photo is of a starfish common to this area. Marine biology is not a specialty of mine, but using the book, Indo-Pacific Coral Reef Field Guide, this starfish appears to be a Linckia laevigata. This starfish can be safely handled as I see neighborhood kids occasionally picking them up and examining them.

Starfish move quite slowly and their locomotion is the result of the water vascular system. Water is brought into the system and moved to the arms by canals. The canals are connected to the tube feet. The feet have tiny suckers, which expand and contract through hydraulics. This is how the starfish moves.

Starfish are known for their ability to regenerate, and a starfish can be completely regenerated from a small fragment.

And here is my anti-work quote for the day.
"We don't have a lot of time on this earth! We weren't meant to spend it this way. Human beings were not meant to sit in little cubicles staring at computer screens all day, filling out useless forms and listening to eight different bosses drone on about about mission statements."
—Office Space, 1999